Trouble
by coyotegrrrl18
Summary: I knew she was trouble when she walked in... For Gail Shark ;)
1. Chapter 1

Holly:

I knew she was trouble when she walked in, sitting behind my desk, poking at me with sarcastic insults and obnoxious questions. She was cynical, and brash, and beautiful, and living like a girl on the edge, like a girl who was going through something and was lashing out at the world like a girl who was desperately trying to keep herself from getting hurt, or should I say hurt more, and trying not to show it. When we were done, she swaggered off in the direction of her car, report in hand, commenting about how much she just hated people. I had to laughed at her, and assumed that would be it. Imagine my surprise when I discovered her waiting for me, leaning her hips up against the hood of my car in the parking garage, where she asked me if I wanted to get a drink with her later. Normally, I would have assumed she was hitting on me, but she had made it fairly clear that she was straight.

Trouble.

I didn't hear from her for a while after that, and then one day, out of the blue, she called asking if I could be her plus one to her boss's wedding, of all things. I knew I should have said no, but I was intrigued, fascinated really. Ok, fine, I had a stupid girl crush on her, one that I knew I shouldn't let get out of hand. She was straight, after all. But, I blew off dinner with my med school friends and said yes anyway. We did have a genuinely good time, falling into an easy camaraderie, dancing, and joking, and drinking champagne, and trading snarky comments about everything from some of the guest's outfits, to relationships, and the fake nature of social expectations, and events like weddings. It was getting late, and we were dancing when she saw a couple of her coworkers who had been working late enter the room. She muttered the word losers, and stole a full bottle of champagne from a passing tray, before she grabbed me by the hand and dragged me off into the coat closet, making some comment about how tedious this party had become, and rolling her eyes at me. When she started asking me the about being a lesbian, saying all the stupid things that straight girls say, I kissed her. I must admit, I did get some rather smug satisfaction from the dumb-struck look on her face as I got up to leave. But when she had kissed me back I knew I had to go.

Trouble.

After a few days of silence later, we were thrown back together by work and circumstance. Her roommate's kid had been taken, and she asked me to rush the lab work as a favor. When she appeared in my lab, Caramel Latte in hand from my favorite coffee shop, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between us, I informed her that when a kid goes missing it's always at the top of the pile, even though I actually was making an extra effort to rush things along for her. As it turned out, her roommate's kid wasn't really his kid after all, and I didn't expect to hear from her later. I expected that she and her friends would be out getting drunk at their favorite bar after all that had happened, but at the end of the day my phone rang.

"Hey, what are you doing?" She wanted to know.

I had plans to meet my friends Lisa, and Rachel at the gym for a yoga class, and then Thai food. But she sounded so vulnerable, and it had been such a shit day, I took her to the batting cages and arcade instead. Maybe I should have taken her seriously when she whined at me about not doing sports, but I scoffed at her, telling her that trying new things wasn't going to kill her. When she shrieked, and literally threw the bat at the ball, I realized perhaps I had been wrong. As she stomped off the field like a little girl complaining loudly about feeling humiliated, I laughed so hard it hurt. She tried to hit me, but she was laughing too hard and missed. We laughed until we were dizzy and drunk with it. She stumbled into me, holding on, pulling me in tighter and spinning me around until we landed in a heap with her on top of me on the ground. If life had been a Hollywood movie I swear she would have kissed me right then. Instead, she looked shyly up at me through her eyelashes. Her eyes were still sparkling and the color of the sky after it rains as she leaned in closer, and breathlessly whispered,

"I told you I don't do sports!"

So much trouble.

After that, it was like our friendship grew wings. Before I knew it, she was regularly dropping by my lab with coffee, or sandwiches, or shawarma, or, god help my waistline, donuts. When I told her that just because she had the metabolism of a teen age boy, didn't mean that the rest of us could eat like her, she showed up on the route of my morning run and made me buy her breakfast when we were finished. She simply laughed at me, and stole a blueberry from my yogurt when I commented on her giant stack of pancakes with extra bacon. On most nights, when she wasn't working, there was pizza, or movies, or drinks at her favorite bar, or dragging me back to the batting cages and arcade, insisting that I teach her how to hit the ball, or checking out a new restaurant, or just a whole lot of hanging out, mostly at my place.

Trouble.

When the call came from the hospital, my lab was buried under a million marijuana plants, a dead body, a domestic assault, and three teenage girls who had been hospitalized for snorting a bad batch of cocaine. I wasn't expecting it, but I guess no one ever is. When the nurse explained that she had been lucky, that they didn't think that the chemicals had a chance to enter her bloodstream and do permanent damage, that her wrist was badly burned but she seemed ok, I felt like I had been plunged into ice water. I numbly agreed when they asked if I could pick her up and observe her for the next twelve hours as a condition of her release. My heart was racing so fast I thought I might be sick. I knew I would be useless until I saw her with my own eyes. So I left work and ran to Toronto General as fast as my car would go. She was on her feet, much to my relief, and having an argument with the woman I had seen her avoid at the wedding when I got there.

"Hey, let's get out of here." Was all she said, in a soft, almost timid voice, as she laced the fingers of her good hand with mine and practically dragged me in the direction of the car park.

I managed to get her out of the car, up the stairs and into my guest room with out too much incident, although it was clear that she was high as a kite. I was busy finding her an oversized t-shirt and some cut off sweats when I heard a loud thud followed by a muffled yelp. Her jacket was on the bed, and she was lying on the floor, glaring up at me with her pants around her knees. I knew it was wrong, but I started to laugh. The harder she glared, the funnier it all became.

"Don't be an asshole, Nerd! Help me!" She demanded, rolling onto her back.

I crouched at her feet, still gasping for air, as I began to untie the laces of her boots.

"Did, did you ever think about taking off your shoes before trying to get undressed?" I finally managed to sputter.

"Shut up!" She giggled, throwing her good arm across her eyes, while allowing me to pull off her offending boots and then her pants.

I could feel the heat rising in my face as I noticed she was only wearing tiny, black, boy shorts that dipped into a red lace V in the front. My breath hitched as she sat up and fumbled with her shirt, managing to get it half way over her head before whining at me to take it off. I closed my eyes taking a deep calming breath before getting up, pulling her shirt off her head, and placing it on the chair across from the bed. When I turned back around, she was holding her arms out to me and looking at me expectantly, wearing nothing but her panties.

Holy cow! She's my friend! I can do this!

As I tucked her in, I couldn't help kissing her on the forehead. She hummed contentedly at the touch of my lips, closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep.

Trouble.

I was puttering around my house, organizing my spice rack alphabetically when I heard the scream, and then the crash that sent me running for the stairs. She was standing in the center of the room as I flipped on the overhead light, wild eyed, and brandishing the base of the bedside lamp like a weapon. She dropped it and threw herself at me the moment she realized who I was. I'm not sure if her nightmare was a result of the pain or the oxy, but all I could do was hold her gently as she clung to me, burying her face into the crook of my neck. After she finally calmed down enough to loosen her grip around my waist, I led her to my bed, noting how gross and sweaty the guest room sheets had become. Siting on the edge of the bed she tugged on my hands, begging for me to stay with her. I knew that I shouldn't do it, if only for the sake of my own sanity, but her eyes were haunted, bottomless, and I caved in almost immediately. I could only hope that as she draped her nearly naked body across mine, holding tightly onto me, that she was too stoned to notice the growing evidence of my unwitting arousal, and growing frustration, held in check by pure strength of will under an iron fist.

So much fucking trouble.

I'm not sure when I finally drifted off to sleep, but when I woke up in the early gloom of morning, she was gone. I worried that maybe things had gone too far, but by noon she came swaggering into my office, brown bag emitting the heavenly aroma of Thai curry in one hand, and an evidence bag containing a piece of soiled fabric in the other.

"Hey," she greeted me, wearing a soft, secret smile I'm sure very few people ever see, "I wanted to thank you for rescuing me yesterday."

"Anytime." I smiled back, wondering exactly what she meant by that.

"I would have bought you dinner tonight, but my mother has set me up on date with some guy who is the son of someone in the mayor's office." She made a sour face and continued unpacking our lunch onto my desk.

I was suddenly unhungry, feeling as if my stomach had been drop-kicked off the top of a tall cliff.

"Oh." Was all that I could muster.

"But if he's as bad as the last one, maybe I we can get together for a drink after I ditch him." She continued blithely, dishing herself up a heaping plate of Pad Thai and Penang Curry with chicken.

"Maybe..." I answered, realizing I needed to do something about this situation, and quickly.

Trouble.

After she left I called Rachel. Rachel and Lisa and I had been practically inseparable since our first year of medical school had thrown us together. I met them when I had asked Rachel to dance, and then Lisa had attempted to pick me up at one of the Harvard University LGBT networking events. As it turned out Lisa was dating Rachel at the time, but insisted on an open relationship because in Lisa's words; "monogamy is an arcane holdover from the patriarchy", or as Rachel likes to say, because Lisa can't keep it in her pants. Where I found Lisa to be arrogant, pretentious and condescending at the best of times, Rachel was, and still is, warm, and smart, and funny, but they were a package deal at the time. When Rachel broke up with Lisa because she was tired of being ignored every time Lisa became infatuated with someone shiny and new, Lisa turned to me for support, and by then she was too much like family for me to abandon.

"Oh honey." Rachel practically groaned, "When will you ever learn to stop hanging out with straight girls."

"You're dating a guy." I answered defensively.

"Holly," Rachel sighed, "the difference is that I never claimed to be straight."

"Fine. Whatever." I pouted.

"Ok, look... Lisa and I will put out heads together and see what we can come up with." She replied.

"Do you have to tell Lisa about this?" I whined at her, and cringed, thinking about what Lisa would surely have to say about my predicament.

"It would be hard not to, she is sitting right here." Rachel laughed at me.

Not even an hour later my phone rang with a girl named Stacy asking to meet me on Friday night at The Black Penny at eight. It wasn't until we got off the phone that I realized exactly what I had done.

Trouble. Trouble. Trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

I knew you were in trouble when you walked in. I never knew how much I dreaded seeing you until that moment when you popped up next to me with a chirpy "hello" and bought me a drink. I could feel my heart pounding unreasonably when I told you I was meeting someone. Not sure if it was going to be a Someone someone. Yeah, right. Someone else. Why should it matter? You're straight. You're straight, and I'm single. You're straight, and I'm single, and we are just friends! Thank goodness my date arrived when she did, before I said something I might regret later. And yet, I couldn't help but notice, even if my date did not, that if looks could kill we would be dead and the bar would be on fire by now. As the evening wore on, I tried to stay focused on anything but the brilliant blue eyes I had apparently so cavalierly abandoned, and the simmering athanor of hurt that became less and less contained with each drink you consumed at an astonishing pace, even for you. As we got up to go there was the crash of a chair hitting the floor, and a commotion from the other side of the room. As I placed my hand on the small of Stacey's back to steer her towards the door, I made the mistake of glancing back over my shoulder. It wouldn't have surprised me if I had turned into a pillar of salt right then and there. A tall, broad, dark haired man, who I knew vaguely as one of your coworkers and roommates, was holding you firmly by your biceps and speaking softly, as you cursed at him and tried to push him aside.

Driving Stacey back to her apartment seemed like the thing to do. She was sexy, and funny, and extremely intelligent. She was a lawyer who worked in a high powered firm that had their offices in one of the same buildings as the cosmetic surgery suite where Lisa did some of her "best work". But when we got to her door, I found myself making excuses about having an early day ahead of me, and left her with just a goodnight kiss, and a promise to call her soon. What was I doing? But all I could think about was the hurt, and angry bright eyes that followed our every move, and the beautiful porcupine of a woman who had wormed her way into my life. I knew as I sat in front of my home, banging my head repeatedly on the steering wheel of my car, that I was totally screwed. How could I have let this happen? I couldn't keep a lid on these feelings forever. I knew that I would have to say something. Someday. Maybe. If only I could find the courage.

Trouble.

Morning came too early after a fitful night of strange dreams that slipped away leaving me in a state of sexual frustration and emotional agitation, which I had neither the time nor ability to deal with in my groggy state when my phone rang summoning me to the lab by nine o'clock, even though it was my day off. An officer had been shot while investigating reports of a homeless man possibly having frozen to death while sleeping under a tree in one of the city parks. It was an all hands on deck situation. I could feel the anxiety churning in my gut as I threw on clothes and ran for the door. It wasn't the bullets that had been pulled from the scene, or the officer's vest that had been hit too close to where it gaps and the arm holes are, or the photographs of the blood on the snow at the crime scene that stopped me cold. It was the small women's jacket bearing the insignia from the fifteen division that made me blanch, and then the sheer amount of blood soaking through it and smeared across everything else. I couldn't speak as I reached for the evidence bag with shaky hands, praying to any power in the universe that might exist, and might be listening, that it didn't belong to you. When I read the name, Price, even though I knew it was wrong, relief struck me like an oncoming train. I had to sit on my desk for a moment, and try not to hyperventilate.

Trouble.

"Did you hear that some guy is out there hunting down the cops at the fifteen?"

I overheard two of the interns gossip as I walked into the ballistics lab. It made me stop in my tracks. It made me feel like I had just been sucker-punched. I had been so busy processing the scene from this morning that I hadn't heard anything new. Until now.

"Yeah," the one I vaguely knew as Eric responded, "I was listening to the scanner in the break room when he almost took out the Superintendent's daughter!"

I suddenly felt as if all of the air had been sucked from the room. An unreasonable rage filled my head with a strange buzzing noise as they started laughing.

"I hear she's a real bitch," the other one blurted out with a snort of laughter, "Man, what a circus that would have been... Oh hey Dr. Stewart!"

"Don't the two of you have work to do?" I snapped at them, stepping into the room, making them recoil suddenly. They shuffled their feet and glanced anxiously at each other. "And I'm sure that I did not just hear you laughing about our colleagues in the Police force being under attack. Did I?" If the anger on my face was equal to even half of the fear reflected back in theirs, I knew I had to get myself back under control.

"No m'aam." Eric mumbled to the floor by his shoes.

"If you can't show the appropriate respect for the women and men who risk their lives to make our city safe, and with whom we work side by side everyday, I'm not sure what you are even doing here!" I knew I was laying it on thick, but I just couldn't stop. I watched them cringe and glance nervously at each other. "And what is this?" I practically growled as l snatched a blue case file folder from the scruffy one with a scraggly attempt at a goatee.

"Ummm... It's a murder case from a few weeks ago?" He muttered refusing to look me in the eye.

"Don't you think it might be important to someone's case? Or are you completely cavalier about that too?" I glared at him.

"Uh, yes ma'am... I mean no ma'am... I mean..." He stuttered and looked like he might cry.

"I'll take care of this." I replied with a frown, "and when I get back, I had better find the two of you paying attention to your work and not engaging in malicious gossip!"

Without another word I spun on my heal and practically ran for the carport.

Trouble.

"Hey! What are you doing here?"

You looked and sounded angry as I spun around from loitering by the bulletin board where I was waiting for your briefing to end. You was giving me that patented Gail Peck "what the fuck" face and gesture. The one I was the recipient of on the very first moment we met. It didn't matter. Relief still took my breath away, and made my mind go blank. Or maybe it was just you.

It took me a moment to snap back to reality.

"It's a murder case from a couple of weeks ago." I replied unconvincingly, brandishing my poor excuse before me.

"Doesn't the courier usually bring that stuff over?" You stood there glaring at me, eyes wide, brow furled, gesturing at me again.

Fuck.

"He was sick? Or something..."

Smooth Holly. Real Smooth.

Fuck.

Next thing I knew I had grasped you by the arm and was shepherding you into an empty interrogation room. After you admitted to having been shot at, and that, yes, you were going back out there, all I could think was that you could have died, and I would never have the chance to say the words that I could feel in my bones. You would never know that you mean the world to me. And so, I inexplicably found myself talking about last night's date, becoming more and more frantic as you stared mutely back at me, until I finally blurted out something about coming here to make sure you were ok or something...

It happened so fast I thought my head had finally exploded. Suddenly, your hands were gripping my face and your lips were upon mine in a rough and passionate kiss. I heard you breathe out "oh my God" as you pulled away.

What the..?! My mind was reeling.

"I'm sorry..." You began, and my heart sunk. "But you just had to stop talking."

"I won't say another word." I managed to whisper after what seemed like an eternity.

And then you leaned in again. Your lips were softer this time, but no less demanding, and your tongue was in my mouth and your body was pressing mine up against the glass of the wall behind me as my knees began to give way.

Holy shit!

Trouble Trouble Trouble


	3. Triple trouble

**Thank you for patiently waiting for this update! I hope to get the next one done more quickly. Once again, I love hearing from you. Your reviews and tweets and PMs are what keeps me writing!**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

I knew she was trouble when she walked in, slamming the front door of my house in her haste to rummage for alcohol in my kitchen. I tried to feed her, to keep her attention, to reassure her, and ok, me, that everything was going to be all right, but she stomped up the stairs to my second floor with a hostile comment about coming out to her brother, and stating that there was no going back. I knew that she was freaking out, and frankly after the day she had who wouldn't? But I also knew I couldn't push her to talk to me. When I heard the bathroom door slam, I left her alone wondering just how much of her freak out was about being shot at, how much of it was about her friends who were in the hospital, and how much of it was about us. So I stayed downstairs and waited, and waited, and waited.

Trouble.

I allowed almost an hour of nervous pacing that seemed like an eternity to pass before cautiously mounting the stairs and coming to stand before my bathroom door. Other than the music coming from my iPod, it was quiet. Too quiet.

She was leaning on the sink with my scissors in one hand, and her pony tail in the other.

"Who cares, right? it's only hair."

She turned to me with a shrug.

In that moment, I knew what fear and relief tasted like all rolled up into a sour, salty ball in the pit of my stomach. I didn't know that I had been praying she hadn't harmed herself, until I knocked and there was no answer, and my hands were on the knob of the door, and my heart was in my throat. I turned the music down.

"So... This is happening..."

I managed to keep my voice steady as my world shook.

"Yeah..." She waived my scissors in the air, "I mean I saw your scissors and I thought, yay! Here's something I can just rewind" she said making a bad attempt at being nonchalant, before throwing them into the sink and sitting on the floor. I tried to concentrate on what she was saying but all I could do was helplessly stand there and watch as she brandished her ponytail before her, explaining what the inches represented in her life. It struck me hard that there was so much about her I still simply didn't know, and the fierce protective desire to gather her up and make it all better, to keep her safe.

As she grabbed for the bottle and drank again, I edged closer, coming to rest on the edge of the tub, wondering just how drunk she was, hoping she would let me help. "Ok... but Honey..." I began, softly.

"Look, look, look!" She interrupted with a smile too bright, "there's literally no bad inches," she was starting to hyperventilate, "cuz I'm just gonna go back to the beginning and I'm rewinding everything and I... She faltered, touching her shorn locks and panicking. "Oh my God! What'd I do? What'd I do?!"

"You cut off all your hair." I stated as calmly as I could.

She covered her face sobbing into her hands.

"I'm kind of freaking out a little bit, aren't I." She said with a wry face as she finally looked up at me, and my heart broke for her.

All I could do was nod and agree. "Yeah."

Trouble.

What was I doing? I knew that it was wrong. Unethical even. So wrong, and yet it felt so right I couldn't stop myself. Fight or flight paraphilia, the syndrome that causes sexual arousal after near death experiences. That was what we were experiencing, the logical, scientific part of my brain was screaming as I slid down the back of the tub to sit before her. I thought briefly about how I shouldn't be taking advantage of her, about how I had never seen her look so vulnerable, so raw, so trusting, and then I fell into her eyes, and she closed the gap between us. The touch of her lips erased everything else from my brain, and when she moaned into my mouth, fireworks!

Shit!

Trouble.

Breaking away from her, l coaxed her up on to her feet with every intention of stepping out of the tub and waiting while she washed the freshly cut hair, and maybe some of the craziness of the day away in my shower. I had done my best to fix what could have been a total hair disaster into a short, butch, pixie cut that looked really hot on her, if I do say so myself. As I was still admiring my work, she grabbed me by the back of the neck, reeling me back into a kiss that left me breathless. I had to do something, so I turned the shower on both of us. She squealed and laughed, and kissed me harder, pulling me into the cold spray, the heat of her body pressed urgently up against mine, adding fuel to the already raging fire between us. Before I knew it, her tongue was in my mouth, and her hands were sliding their way up my ribcage urging my shirt off as they went.

So much trouble.

I wrapped her in a giant towel when we stepped naked from our impromptu shower, rubbing her body as she shivered, my bathroom an explosion of wet clothes, hair clippings and an empty bottle of Honey Jack. The sun was rising as she took me by the hand and led me to my bed. Exhaustion, and liquor, and the stress from the past twenty four hours finally taking their collective toll. I could no longer function, not even as she sat on the edge of my bed looking up at me with those same haunted, trusting eyes.

"Don't you want me?" She whispered when I told her we had to stop.

I swallowed hard around the boulder that had lodged it's self in my throat, watching her eyes, fully aware of the unshed tears that glittered in the first rays of the morning sun that crept through my window.

"Oh Honey..." I sighed, still standing at arms length, "It isn't that. I'm exhausted. You're exhausted. It's been, it's been the most horrible emotionally draining day, for all of us, I think. And I care enough about you that if we do this, I want to do it right. Right now we need to sleep, and when we wake up we should talk."

"Do we have to?" She whined at me.

I laughed, and pushed my way past her sliding under the covers. "Come here!" I held my arms out to her.

She practically dove into the bed, crawling on top of me and wrapping her arms around me with a fierceness that made it difficult to breathe. As I reached out to turn off the bedside lamp she whispered into my skin "Don't leave me!"

I wrapped my arms protectively around her, murmuring "I'm not going anywhere Gail!", into her spiky, cropped hair, and held her close, as if I really could keep her safe.

Trouble. Trouble. Trouble.


	4. Trouble squared

**Thank you for still reading this story! I look forward to hearing from you. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Holly introduces Gail to her friends for the first time**

* * *

I knew you were trouble when you walked in, three whole paces in front of Rachel with that superior, cold smile on your face. We were already sitting at one of the high-top tables across from the bar. It should have occurred to me that the Black Penny was remarkably quiet for a Friday night. Looking back, I realize I should have been wondering where the regular rowdy throng consisting mostly of cops, members of the editorial staff from The Toronto Star and The Toronto Sun, a handful of badge-bunnies, other people from our Forensics department, and above all, Gail's friends were; but I only had eyes for Gail, and she was doing her very best to hold my attention. When Lisa sat smugly across me and introduced herself as Dr. Lisa Carmichael and Rachael as Dr. Rachael Johnson I knew this wasn't going to go well. I simply hoped that Rachael and I could keep her somewhat civil, and that Gail wouldn't hate them. I was becoming more and more nervous that Lisa was in one of her moods, and would push Gail to the point where she would snap.

"But please call us Rachael and Lisa! Our friends all do." Rachael said smiling warmly in Gail's direction, before turning to give Lisa a pointed glare.

Lisa rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored her.

Trouble.

Ever since the night of the shootings, when Gail freaked out and cut her hair, we had been practically inseparable. Not that I minded. We'd talk about everything, and nothing at all, from work, to family, to stupid stuff like movies and video games. Sometimes, late at night, after we made love, when we were lying in each other's arms, she would look at me with such adoration and trust, and tell me things, secrets, about herself in a soft voice reserved only for me. And there were things I could tell that she was't telling me. Scary things about just how dangerous her job really is, even though I saw the evidence of that in my lab every day. And darker things, the things that haunted her dreams. I knew she trusted me, and someday she might let me all the way in. Little by little she was opening up, like a Datura flower, beautiful and deadly, that only bloomed at night. I trusted her too. To me, she had always been snarky, and goofy, and oddly considerate, and fun. I could tell that she was trying so very hard to make me happy. And I was, although there was a shift in Gail that make me both sad, and slightly wary. I missed the snarky, biting, mean-girl comments about the world that I could tell she was holding back, and the somewhat icy, aloof, attitude she used to show everyone else. It was almost like she was afraid to be herself. It made me want to reassure her, and it made me want to stay in our bubble forever. Things were going well, but I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It scared me because lately, I had a secret too. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep those three terrifying little words from slipping off my tongue each time we were together.

"How did you guys meet?" Gail wanted to know after returning to the table with the first round of beer that she insisted on buying.

"Holly tried to pick up Rachael at an LGBT mixer when we were in medical school at Harvard." Lisa stated brashly.

Gail licked her lips and picked up her beer.

"Oh." she replied noncommittally, her eyebrows arching slightly although her face remained impassive.

"Lisa!" Rachael admonished.

"Well you did." Lisa turned to me, and then she smiled, "Too bad she was dating me at the time."

I could feel Gail stiffen as I reach for her thigh under the table.

"Yes, well," I smiled back, "Too bad you never could keep it in your pants."

Rachael laughed and chimed in "No, Lisa never was one for monogamy."

"Admit it ladies," Lisa gloated, "It would be unfair to all of you to take all this completely off the market."

I could see Gail giving her the once-over with an unimpressed expression, and could practically feel her biting her tongue.

Trouble

"Alright! Who needs another beer?" I asked, after quickly polishing off mine.

Everyone laughed and raised their glasses, and I hoped that the tension was broken. Gail smiled, turned and pointed at the bartender, pointed at her glass, and like magic, he appeared at our table with a fresh round. Things seemed to relax after that. Rachael started telling us about the new man she had just started dating, and the hot lesbian boi who kept flirting with her in the cafe on the corner of her street. Even though Gail was being quiet, I could tell that she was making an effort to get to know my friends, for me.

The conversation was going relatively smoothly until Gail asked what kind of medicine Rachael and Lisa practiced. I probably should have let them answer, but I could tell by the look on her face that Lisa was about to start in on some rant about my job, or something, so I jumped in instead. I couldn't seem to help myself, to keep myself from rambling. I was simply too nervous about, well everything really. I knew how judgmental Lisa could be. I knew how she had picked apart almost ever single one of my previous girlfriends, making it clear that she thought they were mortally flawed in some way. Rachael always tried to smooth things over, but Lisa would persist. It was as if all of the choices I made, the things that made me happy, were somehow inferior in her eyes. Rachael used to claim that Lisa's pathologically competitive nature annoyed even her. She would tell me that Lisa simply couldn't understand how anyone who was gifted enough to knock her out of the running for valedictorian of our graduating class, wouldn't care about their partner's career path, as long as it was fulfilling for them. Lisa could be a royal pain, but it was funny; in-spite of it all, Rachael and I were among the very few she deemed worthy of her loyalty and affection.

Although we had never discussed the extent of her formal education, Gail is one of the most intelligent people I ever met. I was certain that if they just met her, if they had the chance to have a real conversation with her, they would see it too. And I knew the minute I interrupted Gail to tell her that CF meant Cystic Fibrosis, that it I sounded condescending. I didn't mean to do it. The last thing I wanted to do was to give any kind of impression that I didn't respect her, or make it seem like I thought she was dumb. I just really wanted all of them to like each other. With each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear to me that although we had only just started dating after months of friendship, I wanted a real future with Gail. It was crazy, and impulsive in a way that made me feel giddy. I wanted to wake up every morning to her cranky, pre-coffee face, and share my latest scientific discoveries with her, and listen to her talk about her day, and all of the losers she ran into and over for the rest of my life.

I knew Gail well enough that I could feel her bristle next to me as Lisa started in on her usual lecture about how I was wasting my talents "poking at dead people, instead of saving lives". She was wearing a sad, almost angry smile that didn't reach her eyes when I glanced at her, as Lisa continued to pick on my life choices. Lisa always resented my choice of becoming a Forensic Pathologist instead of becoming the "brilliant Cardiothoracic surgeon" everyone at Harvard predicted my future to be. I had been the youngest person in the history of Mass General Hospital chosen to assist in a total heart, lung transplant, an assignment Lisa desperately wanted in on. In-fact, I'm fairly sure that Lisa settled on a career in plastics after getting turned down for an internship with the cardio team at Toronto General. And while I do find cardiovascular and thoracic surgery to be fascinating, and as Lisa likes to point out, it would pay me at least triple what I am making now, I was in love with the pure science of forensic research and a good mystery to solve. I couldn't help quipping about how Lisa was saving the world one boob job at a time. When she smiled superiorly and replied, "I'm a woman who likes a perfect pair of breasts, so sue me." I saw Gail glance at her chest with a sarcastic sneer, but kept any of her usual comments to herself.

Trouble

I saw Gail lick her lips and visibly swallow whatever she was about to say as my friends went to buy us another round. I turned to her and asked, "So how are you doing?"

"I'm having fun." She replied, but wouldn't look at me.

"Yeah?" I desperately hoped she was.

"Yes!" She nodded, leaning in toward me.

"Ok!" I breathed out as I kissed her briefly.

"Now I'm having more fun." she replied without opening her eyes immediately.

"Good! Cuz I really want you to like them! They're practically family, I mean, we've been inseparable since collage..." I gushed at her, missing the smile sliding from her face.

"Oh all right, ok!" She rolled her eyes at me and leaned in for a brief kiss. And then, as I laughed nervously, a lingering one.

"Oh God! Get a room!"

I did not miss the hard, cold look of annoyance that flashed across her features when Lisa returned commenting at us loudly.

I know that Gail hates to feel like she is being laughed at. As I watched her literally bite her lips, take a deep breath, and rock slightly back and forth in her seat, I know that I shouldn't have pushed her for a story. I should have read the signs. My only poor defense is that I was too intent on getting Racheal and Lisa's approval. When she told the story of Chris getting stabbed in the most cavalier way possible, I should have known the evening was over. After a brief shocked pause she put on a fake, mocking smile and said in a syrupy voice, "He's still alive. So you see, I too am in the business of saving lives."  
And then excused herself from the table.

Trouble.

The minute she was gone, Lisa dragged me over to the bar to get a round of bourbon shots, and started in on how I was wasting my time with dating her.

"What do you know?" I demanded, "You haven't even given her a fair chance!"

"Well you are right." Lisa replied "She is gorgeous! But it's still not gonna last..."

What the fuck?! I knew Lisa could be an elitist bitch, but this was a bit much, even for her!

"Wow! I think that's a new record for rash judgement!" I glared at her, "Good for you. Congrats. I think it's time to cut you off..."

"Holly, you're a doctor" Lisa's voice was impatient, as if she was explaining something obvious, "And Gail, she's lovely, and you know what? She's fine. But sweetie, she's a beat cop..."

"So?" I interrupted.

"So you're out of her league!" She insisted.

"Oh God." I rolled my eyes with exasperation. I couldn't believe this was happening. Again.

"Look, I get it." She went on, "You want something that's uncomplicated and simple..."

Gail was anything but uncomplicated, and my feelings for her anything but simple. But Lisa was being an ass, and I wasn't about to explain it to her then and there. So I said, "Look, I'm having fun. Don't worry about it!" Trying to keep the anger from my voice.

'Well have your fun but get out before she gets hurt." Lisa was clearly patronizing me.

"Nobody's going to get hurt!" I could feel my anger flash under my words.

"We'll see." Lisa pushed back

Trouble

As I turned around her eyes said it all. I'm not sure how long she had been standing there, and I'm not sure what she heard, but the look on her face was enough to stop my heart. It was like her face had shut like a door, and I was left outside in the cold. She glanced venomously at Lisa, and then back at me.

"Excuse me." She brushed past me to pick up her coat, obviously headed for the door.

I felt sick.

"Gail! Gail wait! Where are you going?" I rushed after her.

"Is that what you think?" She rounded on me, "Do you think that I'm uneducated? That I'm a blue-collar? That I'm, I'm out of your league?"

"No! No, I never said that!" I protested weakly, knowing it was too late, that I had betrayed her.

"You know what I think?" She tore into me, "I think that botched boob job that you call a best friend, I think that she's an idiot, and I'd rather tase myself in the eye than spend another minute with either one of you!"

The pain was like she had just stabbed me in the chest, and I couldn't catch my breath, and I couldn't think.

"What are you saying?" I heard myself say from a distance.

"I dunno," She spat back at me, "You're a doctor, why don't you figure it out."

I was shaking and I couldn't breathe.

"Hey, don't look so upset," She said in exactly the same tone of voice she had used when she told us that she too was in the business of saving lives, and the same deadly smile was back, "You're just having fun. Right?" she shot over her shoulder as she left the bar.

I stood there in shock, watching her go. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. This couldn't be happening!

"Aw, I'm so sorry Holly." Lisa's disingenuous voice said next to me, "But it's for the best you know."

I could feel my panic building.

"I, I have to go after her." I stuttered, "I have to explain..."

"Come on sweetie," She continued, grasping my arm, "You know this would have happened sooner or later."

"WHAT?!" I rounded on her. "What the Fuck Lisa?!"

"You know you would have had to let her down when someone serious came along." Lisa shrugged

"No. No I wouldn't." I ripped my arm from her grip, and headed for the door after her.

"Hey!" I heard Rachael say as she returned from talking on the phone, "Where's Gail? Where are you going?"

"Lisa can tell you!" I called back at her over my shoulder.

"Whatever. It's for the best." Lisa called after me, "You'll see."

Trouble Trouble Trouble

When I looked frantically around the parking lot and up and down the street, Gail was nowhere in sight. For someone who doesn't have a working car, hates taxis, and refuses to run, she sure did manage to disappear in a hurry! Her phone went straight to voicemail, and my text wasn't delivered. Shit!

And now I'm lying on the cold hard ground


	5. Pentetrouble

I knew you were trouble when you walked in, trailing Oliver's bratty teenage daughter behind you, and delivering a severed thumb to be examined as evidence. I had to brace myself before I could walk into my lab and be forced to interact with you. Perhaps you weren't ready either. I already knew you were trying to get Rodney to deal with the thumb without having to see me. Admittedly, I was hiding in the restroom, trying to calm the wild beating of my heart, and the urge to curl up into the fetal position and cry until everybody was gone for the day. The cold porcelain edge to the sink was leaving an attractive red groove in the heels of my hands as l clung on for dear life.

You can do this Holly!

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath to steady myself. It almost worked.

Three weeks since we had had that disastrous evening at the Penny with my friends, and the silence was deafening. Three weeks since she had told me that she would rather tase herself in the eye than spend another minute with either me or my friends, and stomped out of my life. The first few days were the hardest. I could barely breathe, much less eat or sleep, it hurt too much.

After giving her a day to cool off, I swallowed my pride and went to her apartment to try and make amends. Her roommate Dov ushered me inside with a sad smile, wanting to know what had happened between us. He looked worried when he told me she was gone, for how long he didn't know. She had taken an undercover assignment with Guns and Gangs to bust a notorious coke and prostitution ring. He nervously offered me a beer, confiding that he was surprised her brother would do this to her after what had happened the last time, and just hoped that she wasn't going to do anything stupid to prove that she was alright. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wasn't about to tell him that. What I knew was that she had what looked an awful lot like what might be the symptoms of PTSD, symptoms she desperately tried to hide from the world, but I wasn't going to tell him that either. So I nodded, and thanked him, and left. My calls went unanswered, my texts went undelivered, my emails were marked unread, and I saw no sign of her at crime scenes or at the station. She really was gone.

And then one day she was back, standing at the edge of my crime scene on the sidewalk, talking to a wittiness. I smiled and waved. She glared, turned on her heel, ushering the wittiness over to her car, and walked away. When I was done examining the body, she was gone. When I tried to call her after work, my call went straight to voice mail. And so it went for the next week or so. I would catch a glimpse of her at the Penny, or at a crime scene, and each time she snubbed me it hurt more than the time before.

The call came when I least expected it. Would I be interested in taking a research and teaching position at the Mt. Sinai UCSF forensic devision under the leadership of Dr. Henry Bernard? Would I?! I get headhunted all the time, but Dr. Bernard is only one of the leading forensic anthropologists in the world! At first I thought it was a joke, one of Lisa's attempts to make me smile, and get her back into my good graces. But then the woman explained that Dr. Bernard had read my article in The Journal of Forensic Sciences on The Result of Urban Conditions and their Effect on Decomposition and DNA Recovery, and was so impressed he wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. I had nothing but the vacation time I never use to lose, so I let them book me a flight two days later. San Francisco was lovely, and the job was everything I could ever dream of, with room to grow. I would be running my own research lab at a well funded, well respected institute with resources I could only dream of at the Toronto Coroner's Office, teaching at UCSF two days a week with summers off, and doing field work working with the San Francisco police force on open cases. When I was offered a generous raise in my salary, as well as an apartment in University Housing for the first year, and a company car, I was tempted. And then I thought about Gail, and how much it was killing me that every time I tried to reach out to her she literally turned away and wouldn't talk to me, and said yes. And now here she was, in my lab, looking good enough to stop my heart.

Fuck!

Trouble

"Hey, I I just wanted to say thank you for today."

She was back, by herself this time. As I looked up at her, all the millions of things I had wanted to say to her left my head and the frustration, and anger of having had her shut me out for the last three weeks took over.

"It's my job." I answered as coldly as I could muster.

"Yeah, and if you're not busy later, I'd love to take you out, maybe for a drink, and I don't know, apologize?" She said, coming closer, leaning on my desk.

God, she was beautiful! Why did she have to be so addictive?

"You had a chance to apologize the day after you walked out on me, or the week after, or any one of the times I called and you didn't pick up!" I replied, trying to be strong.

I could feel my frustration about to boil over. I was not about to cry, because that would be stupid. Nope. Not me.

"I know." She sighed and leaned closer, "Just just give me a chance" She was practically begging, "I really want to explain myself."

She looked like she might cry too. I knew I had to think clearly, to put some distance between us, or I was just going to fall into her eyes, let her back into my life and into my bed, and hate myself later.

"Gail, I'm seeing someone." I said before I simply gave in and kissed her. I could see the impact of my lie hit her like a slap. "I'm sorry." I continued softly, as if I could cushion the blow.

"That's fine." She choked out as she spun on her heel and ran for the door. "Izzy!" She screamed into an empty hallway, and my heart broke again at the anguish in her voice.

Trouble

It was well after hours when Rachael found me, sitting at my desk staring at a mummified thumb in a bag, and marveling at how quickly, under the right conditions, human flesh would shrivel up, and essentially become useless jerky. I was idly wondering if someone were to crack open my chest right now, if my heart would be found in a similar condition, and maybe that was why it hurt so much. Seeing Gail had been like being crushed to death slowly, one stone at a time. So slowly that the pain is almost bearable, and then devastating all at once.

"Holly?"

I looked up sharply. Rachael was standing in my doorway, leaning on her hip with her arms crossed, and a bemused expression on her face. I had no idea how long she had been watching me.

"Holly, what are you still doing here?" She asked as she stepped into my office and sat down.

Rachael had been dropping by at the end of the day, and entering my lab as a colleague with a flash of her badge since the day I began this job. My boss didn't mind as long as she was willing to volunteer her time and expertise in abnormal tissue data analysis when we needed it.

"I'm just thinking about this thumb." I waved the evidence bag in her direction.

"Mmm, I can see that." She smiled and raised her eyebrows at me. "When you didn't answer your phone, I thought you might still be here. Want to go get some sushi with me? I need a fix."

"I can't." I sighed, "I should go get this back to Gail."

"She was here? You actually saw her? What did she say?" Rachael demanded.

"She wanted to take me out for a drink and apologize for being a jerk and shutting me out." I shrugged and looked back at the thumb.

"And you said?" Rachael prompted after a loaded silence.

"I told her I was seeing someone else." I mumbled and closed my eyes.

"Oh, Holly..." She said softly, and I could feel her looking at me with big sad eyes.

"What." I snapped, pulling a page out of Gail's book.

"You know Holly," she began as if speaking to a child, "for somebody who has moped around like the world was ending for the past three weeks, and couldn't stop complaining about not being given a chance to set things right, don't you think you should have at least gone and talked with her?"

"She's like a fucking cat." I grumbled, half to myself.

"What?" Rachael looked confused.

"I mean," I said shaking my head with frustration, "I didn't know I would be so angry with her until she was right here making flirty propositions about going out for drinks to apologize. And besides," I finally sighed, "I'm leaving, so what does it matter."

"That's right, you're leaving." Rachael shot back, "You're leaving, and if you don't fix things, or at least get yourself some closure before you go, you are going to regret it for the rest of your life."

"What do you know about it? And why do you care? You guys think that dating her is beneath me." I practically snarled, and then regretted it. "You know, this," I punched the sit with my finger, "This, is exactly why I'm not speaking to Lisa any more!"

"Don't you go putting Lisa's words in my mouth. I thought Gail was lovely." Rachael scowled at me. "And Lisa," she chuckled, "Lisa's a bitch."

"Yeah," I laughed bitterly, "Pretty and simple. I'll have you know that Gail is one of the most intelligent, and interesting, and brave people I have ever met!"

"You love her." Rachael stated simply, and I felt myself deflate.

"Yeah, yeah I do." I rubbed my eyes under my glasses as if that would help suppress the wave of emotion.

Trouble Trouble Trouble


	6. Hexatrouble

**Surprise! I thought I'd get this update out ASAP, before I am back on the road with who knows how much time to write.**

 **I just couldn't revisit that last scene in the locker room, it makes me way too angry. I hope you're ok with that.**

 **Thank you all for still reading, and commenting, and hopefully enjoying this story. There will be more to come.**

* * *

I knew you were trouble when you walked in. It had been one of the most exhausting, and frustrating few weeks I had since I moved here. I looked up from staring blindly at my beer as I heard you demanding tequila, holding up three fingers, and slamming each shot back one at a time like they were water. Yours was the voice that haunted me in dreams, and sometimes in the silence of my empty lab after hours, and from the dark corners of bars, like this one, when I was too exhausted to keep your apparition at bay. Wild Side West was the very last place on earth I expected to see you in the flesh, suddenly turning my world on its head, making me wonder if you were real, or if I had summoned a hallucination of you from the well of loneliness, out of sheer longing. It had been just about a year since I kissed you goodbye at the airport in Toronto, and almost that long since we had spoken. I missed you everyday with an ache, like an amputee with a phantom limb.

The difference between you and the you in my dreams was that you looked older than the last time I saw you, and thinner, and sadder. Your hair was longer too, brushing up against your shoulders in cascade of dirty reddish blonde, that I assumed was your natural color. Gone was some of the bravado and the swagger that I loved so much. It wasn't just that you looked exhausted, but worn thin in a way that made me want to cry. Suddenly, I found myself on my feet, and free-falling along with the bottom of my stomach, and my heart.

Trouble

San Francisco had been possibly the best and worst decision of my life. I loved my new position at the Mt. Sinai Institute of Forensic Studies in a way I had only dreamed of loving my job in the past. Forensic science has always been my passion. To be working with some of the best and brightest minds in my field, as well as having the tools and the resources, as well as the encouragement of my superiors to pursue my research, not to mention forensic anomalies we run across in the field, has been thrilling! Even the morgue here is a state of the art, well lit, spacious working environment, a far cry from my cramped old lab back in Canada. And now, after only a year, I have found myself up for a promotion.

While my career flourished, my personal life has been practically nonexistent. Its been difficult to meet anyone outside of the people I see at work every day. While a few of my colleagues have genuinely begun to become my friends, I miss my old life back home in Toronto. Sometimes I even miss Lisa.

Spring came early here, with a glimmer of sun, and the blooming of rhododendrons, and a rash of rape-murder cases that washed up on the beach under the Golden Gate Bridge, keeping my team, and me working overtime for weeks. I had given my entire team the weekend off, and closed down the lab a bit early this afternoon in hopes of getting a fresh look at the evidence first thing on Monday morning, assuming nothing new and urgent popped up in the interim. And so I found myself drinking beer, at my favorite lesbian neighborhood bar with its cozy, dimly lit atmosphere, it's dark wood interior, it's obligatory pool table and dart board, and it's beautiful, unexpected, garden out back. And now, I found myself clutching my beer as if my life depended on it, standing at the shoulder of the woman I left behind.

Trouble

"Hey." I said softly, placing my hand gently on your shoulder.

You flinched, and turned sharply, looking up at me with eyes that were the color of Lake Erie in winter.

"Holly." You breathed out in a somewhat wary tone, "What are you doing here?" You scowled at me and made a familiar gesture with your hands. Suddenly, I was back in Toronto, on a cold, wet, fall day, having just crossed under the police tape to go look at some bones.

I couldn't help myself, I laughed, and tilted my head quizzically at you.

"No Gail, I think that's my line." I smirked.

"I live here." You replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Ok, that's definitely my line." I pursed my lips and peered at you over the top of my glasses. "Gail, seriously, what's going on?"

Just over a year ago when I asked you to move out here with me, you told me that you had begun the process of adopting an eight year old girl, and that whether or not it went through, you were a Peck, and the TOPD would always be your home.

You shrugged and pointed at the bartender, and then pointed at our glasses, smiled, and gave her a thumbs up. Not a moment later, two more full pint glasses appeared in front of us.

"I don't know about you, but I definitely need more alcohol." You replied with an insincere smile.

Trouble

"We need to talk." I insisted, as I found myself steering you once again, inexplicably, by the elbow, out the back door, down the stairs, and into the back of the garden where we came to sit at a table under an arbor full of fairy lights. Seeing you in this setting made me want to laugh, and cry at the same time.

"Gail..." I began.

You looked up at me, and then looked away, nervously rolling your beer glass between the palms of your hands.

"Gail, what happened? Why are you here?" Something had to be terribly wrong. I tried to contain my panic, but I knew my voice was sharper than I meant it to be, and full of the concern I could feel building in my chest.

"Well Holly," You licked your lips, looked up, and replied in a fake surgery voice, "I heard that San Francisco was full of lesbians who left everything behind to start a new life, so I thought, why not?"

"Gail, that's not..." I replied, sharply feeling your well aimed blow to my heart.

"What? Not fair? It seems to have worked out well for you." You shot back bitterly.

I sighed, ignored the sting from your barb, and tried again. Replying softly, I looked you in the eye, "I did ask you to come with me."

You scoffed and picked up your beer. "Yeah. Only because you knew I couldn't do it then."

"That's not true." My weak defense came as you huffed at me.

"Just how long have you been here? And why didn't you call me?" I persisted.

"About three weeks." You licked your lips and continued, "And ya know Holly, not everything is about you."

I know I must have looked as confused, and hurt as I felt, because you sighed, put down your beer and said, "You really don't know, do you?"

I scowled and shook my head. There was, honestly, so much I didn't know. And I regretted it. I regretted it because maybe, just maybe, things could have been different.

"Let's just say, that even though I know that I have always been a disappointment to my parents," you shook your head, closed your eyes, huffed, and brashly went on, "But who knew that I would be the one to put my brother in jail, ruin my parent's careers, and take down the entire family legacy."

"Wait... Wait... What?!" I exclaimed, shaking my head in disbelief. As I reached out across the table to touch your arm, you recoiled.

"You see Holly, this," you smiled ironically, "this is exactly why I didn't call you."

"What do you mean?" I could feel the tears forming behind the knot of my eyebrows.

"I can't always be the sad, broken little girl you have to take care of and put back together." You replied with an annoyed look.

"Gail..." I did reach out and placed my hand on her arm this time. "You're not... that's not how..."

"No!" You firmly stated, "It's been more than a year, and I couldn't just show up on your doorstep expecting..."

There was a zing in my chest that felt distinctly like hope.

"Expecting?" I needed to know.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and bit your lower lip.

"Expecting what, Gail?" I demanded.

"I mean... I... I don't even know..." you faltered and looked at me with unshed tears sparkling in your eyes, "I'm sure that you must be with someone..."

"I'm not." I barely managed around the lump forming in my throat, "I'm not seeing anyone."

"You're not?" You whispered.

"No." I whispered back, as my heart threatened to leap from my chest.

"Oh." You exhaled as if you had been holding your breath.

The air between us had become charged and heavy.

"I miss you." I admitted in a barely audible voice.

You breached the table so quickly, in one swift movement, to land squarely in my lap, your hands balling up the collar of my shirt, and your lips burning into mine in the best way possible. My hands found their way underneath your sweater, grasping desperately at the skin of your back, pulling you in closer as my tongue sought yours. I'm not sure who made that ridiculous low moaning noise, but it may have been me. One of your hands tangled its self in my hair as you shifted to straddle my legs and stroked my face gently with the other. I heard myself whimper as we pulled apart gasping for air, still holding on. As you leaned back in to kiss me with all of the tender longing that matched the feelings I could no longer contain, you murmured into my lips, "Holly, take me home."

Trouble Trouble Trouble


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you all for your comments and your support, and your patience waiting for this chapter! I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

I knew you were trouble when you walked in, pinning me roughly up against the nearest wall of my apartment the instant we were through the door, splitting me open with insistent hands, and lips, and teeth. I knew that we desperately needed to talk. God, how we needed to talk! But what was I supposed to do when the friction from your body was creating an accelerated rate of combustion determined to melt my very bones, and any resolve I might have had? When your tongue on mine switched off the frontal lobes of my brain? When your skin lit up my limbic system? When your fingers stimulated my amygdala? When the only word that I could remember how to say was, yes!

Trouble

I remember trying to tell you, before succumbing to the best sleep I've had since moving here, that we needed to talk. I distinctly remember murmuring it into your hair, before you lifted your head and kissed me softly, with your secret smile, and soft, shining eyes.

"Later Lunchbox." You whispered sleepily into my lips, as you snuggled impossibly closer.

When I awoke in the cool, grey light of morning you were gone, and I was alone again wondering if it had all just been a dream. Damn it! Why did I think bringing you home last night was such a good idea?

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

I slammed my fist down hard on my bedside table, sending my phone, and my glasses flying, and the lamp crashing to the floor. As I got out of bed and groped for my glasses, a shard of glass from the broken bulb bit into the side of my hand. I could feel that all too familiar pain blossoming again with a fresh intensity in my stomach, and behind my eyes. I was all done with crying over you. I refused to shed another single tear. Nope, not me!

Who the hell did I think I was kidding?

What I needed was a good long run to sweat you out of my system, and to clear my head.

Trouble

Fifteen minutes later, I had cleaned up the mess, bandaged my hand, and was jogging out the door of my building when we collided on the stairs.

"Hey lady! Watch it, will ya?!"

I looked up to find you glaring at me with the exactly the same expression you had on the first day we met, still clutching a cardboard tray of what looked like two coffees and a smoothie in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other.

"Gail?" I was stunned, "What..."

Your expression quickly changed from annoyance, to recognition, to resignation. Your whole body slumped, shoulders drooping, as you closed your eyes and hung your head with a sigh.

"Of course you didn't think I'd be coming back." Your voice sounded defeated as I watched you place the tray on the steps, and remove one of the coffees. You licked your lips. "Why would you?" You laughed bitterly, and spun on your heel to go.

"Gail..." I called after you, taking a step in your direction as soon as I could move.

"No, no really Holly. It's ok. We don't need to do this again." You countered with a shrug and a frown, as you continued to walk away.

"What if I want to?" I blurted out, moving cautiously toward you.

"What?" You stopped, and turned, thunderheads forming, a storm rolling across your eyes.

"What if I want to." I stated more confidently, closing the gap between us. I grasped at your elbow. "Look. Gail. Let's go back inside."

I briefly paused to retrieve the coffee tray, as I steered you back up the stairs and into my building. It has always amazed me how every time I do this, you pliantly allow it, with that same adorably indignant look on your face.

Trouble

Sitting on my couch with your hands tucked between your knees, you watched me pace. The silence between us was growing heavier by the moment, and I could almost hear your brain spinning at a million miles per second. I knew my head felt like it was about to explode! As I turned to face you it all came rushing out. Once I started, I couldn't seem to stop.

"What happened Gail? Why are you here? I mean it's not like I'm not happy to see you, at least that should be obvious, but I mean, you show up out of nowhere... From the little you said last night... Gail... Are you in trouble? Or something...?" I flailed helplessly.

You sighed heavily and grabbed my hand as I passed by in a surprisingly firm grip, bringing me to stand between your knees.

"Look Holly," your eyes were guarded, and your voice was flat, "Its really great that you still seem to care enough to have brought me back here, or maybe you just didn't want to be the bad guy for not trusting me, but..."

"Says the woman who, pardon the pun, has a track record of running away and disappearing without a trace at the first hint of trouble." I interrupted.

I could feel the color rising in my face, along with the anger and frustration at the wall of silence between us since I moved here, along with past transgressions I clearly wasn't over.

"Oh really!" You snapped, "At least I'm not the one who took a job over four thousand kilometers away. But you didn't think I was coming back then either."

"Come on Gail! What was I supposed to think? You told me that you didn't want to spend another minute with me, and then you avoided me and gave me the silent treatment for almost a month!" I shot back at you, "Would you even be talking to me now if Traci hadn't forced you to take that thumb to me?"

I stood back glaring at you, hands on my hips, and watched you break. As you closed your eyes and turned your head away, I could feel my resistance crumble. I sat down beside you as silent sobs shook your body, wanting nothing more than to hold you. But I couldn't.

"Please, just talk to me Gail." I gently asked.

Biting your lips, you shrugged and shook your head, and wouldn't look at me.

"Please?" I implored, reaching out to place my hand on your knee.

"What? And risk making things complicated?" Your eyes snapped open and then narrowed dangerously at me, "You're just having fun, right? Why would I want to ruin that? In fact, why am I even still here? Ya' know Holly," Your tongue darted out of your mouth to moisten your lips, and, your voice was dripping with contempt that stung, "It has been real fun, but I'll be going..."

"No." I stated firmly, holding on to your leg, not letting you get up.

"What?" You gaped at me, confused.

I have no idea what possessed me, but I gripped your knee harder still.

"No!" I said louder, "You are not going anywhere. you are going to stay right here until we talk this out."

Your brow knit, and you made that little gesture with your hands. I sighed and began again.

"Look, as hard as it may be for anyone else to believe, I know you didn't just come to San Francisco for the weather." I could feel myself smirking at you, "So why don't you tell me what's really going on."

"Ok." You replied, turning back to me. Your voice was tiny, your eyes were huge, haunted, bottomless. "But not before coffee!"

Trouble

We were sitting on a park bench, in the park at the top of my street, overlooking the city with fresh mugs of coffee, my smoothie, and a bag of blueberry muffins between us.

"I can't believe you got me my favorite smoothie! Thank you!" I said softly after taking a sip.

"You're welcome." You turned to smile shyly at me, "I thought you might like one for breakfast, or at least you used to."

"I just can't believe you remembered." I replied, feeling my heart contract as I looked into your eyes. It felt like a million years since we had done this last.

You held my gaze for a moment before you responded, "Holly, I remember everything about you."

"You do?" I could barely speak.

"Yeah." You blushed, and your eyes were the color of the morning sky.

I could fall into your eyes if I wasn't careful.

Trouble

"Gail," I started, as I cautiously bridged the gap between us, picking up your one of your hands and holding it between both of mine, "What happened to us? I need to know. I mean, everything was going so well, and then... and I know I should have stood up to Lisa that night instead of trying to blow her off. I know how angry you were with me. " I sighed, feeling like we fit together, and yet we were almost like strangers now, "And I know this is ancient history... and I want to be able to trust you now... I do... but why did you run off and shut me out like that for weeks..."

"You really don't know by now?" You cut me off.

I shook my head, feeling like the ground beneath me was about to dissolve into thin air at any moment.

"I loved you." You closed your eyes and let your head fall back. You said so quietly I almost didn't hear it.

"You... you did?" I held your hand tighter to my heart that was about to beat right out of my chest.

"Yeah." You breathed out.

You turned and looked at me the way you had looked at me the first night we were together when I told you I thought you were still kind of beautiful.

"I never felt that way about anyone before you." You continued, "I was such an idiot! I should have known that it was different for you."

"It wasn't..." I began, but you cut me off.

"No! No, no, you don't get to do this now. To make yourself feel better." You pulled your hand from my grip while shaking your head, "It's.. it's ok. I get it now..."

"No Gail! It's not ok!" I interrupted, "I fell for you. Hard."

You started to rant, "Then why did you agree with your bitch tits best friend when she said that I was simple, uncomplicated, uneducated..."

I may have accidentally snorted when you said uncomplicated.

"What." You exclaimed, as you stopped to glare at me.

"You know that you are none of those things, right?" I looked at you over the top of my glasses, feeling the smirk spreading unwittingly on my lips.

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Well you're not." I could feel the warmth spreading throughout my body as you pouted adorably, "Look, Gail," I said with all heart-stopping seriousness, "I was, I am, in love with you. And the only reason I didn't say it right then and there, other than Lisa can be a real annoying, elitist, bitch, was because I wanted to say it out loud for the first time to you. In private."

"Oh really." Your eyes were wide, vulnerable. "Please, please don't play with me." You whispered.

"I'm not." I replied in an equally hushed voice, "God, or someone help me, I still love you."

Your lips were everything I ever needed, and your hands were tangled in my hair, and when you sighed into my mouth I thought my heart was going to burst. Still holding on you pulled back just enough to look at me. You licked your lips, and whispered back, "I still love you too."

Trouble Trouble Trouble


End file.
